When you first arrived I couldn’t wait to sit down and compose a love letter to you. I was infatuated. However, before I wrapped up the letter my feelings began to change and soon I had additional things I wanted to say … and then even more additional things … and now that there is an end between us I really just want to share the story of the turmoil you’ve put me through. Please read this letter if for no other reason than that the number of hours I invested in this relationship deserve a few moments of your untangled attention.

Dear Bernat Haven in White,

I adore you. You have arrived as a nice surprise in a mixed yarn lot that was shockingly affordable. I didn’t know what to expect from the lot. Many of the yarns you were packed with must have been offensive to you with their bold 1970’s inspired colors and their scratchy surfaces. But you … you are like a cloud slipping through my fingers on a sunny day. I can’t wait to figure out what to do with you. This must be what love at first sight is all about.

Passionately,

CrochetBlogger

Dear Bernat Haven in White,

Hm, I’m not sure where things stand between us. For National Crochet Month I set a goal of learning one new technique each week. I have always loved how crochet cables look so I thought I’d start with that despite knowing that it’s a bit of a challenging endeavor. You felt like the perfect yarn. I would be thrilled if we could work together. But when I started to try to follow the somewhat complex directions to create a crochet cable scarf, it really didn’t seem like you were interested in working with me. I don’t understand. You seem so soft and warm and lovely. The problem is that you are so incredibly, ridiculously fuzzy that there’s no way I can see the stitches of a scarf clearly enough to be able to learn to make cables with you. Apparently you don’t want to try new things with me. I suppose that would be okay except that you didn’t seem too interested in starting over fresh either. After all, when I tried to rip you back to start an easier scarf pattern, you clung to yourself and rejected my attempts. Although I eventually turned you back into a ball of yarn, the task wasn’t easy and I get the feeling from the continued difficulty of working with you that you are still mad at me.

Teary Eyed,

CrochetBlogger

Dear Bernat Haven in White,

Okay, so I took some space and talked to some of my friends about our relationship. I was curious about whether or not it was in your nature to be so difficult to work with. I did some research online first, which is how I figured out that you are a discontinued yarn. This means that I should make something special with you while I can. However, the items that I see displayed by people who worked with you in the past don’t seem possible to actually make given how stubborn you’re being. There was even a crocheted cable scarf that someone supposedly made with you but the stitches look so well defined that I can’t imagine that it was really you in the photo. I started wondering if maybe you were different when you were younger, maybe you were easier to work with before you were discontinued and the bitter years passed you by? So that’s when I decided to talk to some friends about what was going on with you. Via Twitter chats, Facebook posts, blog comments, email and a long sad night over a bottle of wine, they assured me that the problem isn’t me; it’s you. I was told that you are notoriously difficult to work with because of your fuzzy nature and that I’m not the only one who can’t find stitches when working with you. I really adore your cottony softness but I am starting to see why you were discontinued and am not really sure how and when this relationship might continue.

With fading lust,

CrochetBlogger

Dear Bernat Haven in White,

Okay, okay. We’ve been giving each other the silent treatment for far too long. It’s true; you’re a bit difficult to work with. But I’m drawn to you and I want to make this work. I am going to try to create a simple scarf. I’ll use a large hook and do alternating rows of triple crochet and half double crochet. That should be an easy enough task and yet will still create a product that we should both be proud of. Would you be willing to work with me on that?

Hopefully,

CrochetBlogger

Dear Bernat Haven in White,

OMG – I think I’m in love with you again. I adore the fuzzy feel of your fibers as they drape across my fingers while I work. Although the stitches of this scarf are not defined, I’m finding it easier to work with you since we’re trying a much more relaxed endeavor together. I definitely think that this was the way to go and we’re going to be really happy together after all. I can’t imagine why you were ever discontinued. I think that my weeks of frustration with you were really just an overreaction to the honeymoon phase of our relationship fading away and that we have now reached a deeper, truer kind of love. Thanks for hanging in there with me!

Love,

CrochetBlogger

Dear Bernat Haven in White,

Really? Are you kidding me?! Balls of your fibers all over my bed is a rather passive aggressive way to let me know that this isn’t going to work after all. I mean, I admit that I should have been getting the hint before now. I really didn’t like the way that you were shaping up even as a simple scarf. I thought about hooking you up with another color to make the pattern more balanced somehow but I wasn’t sure if you would play nice with others. I couldn’t find a yarn in my stash that I thought you’d be cohesive with. And I really just wanted it to be me and you. Even though I wasn’t liking the edge of the scarf and it was starting to frustrate me that there is absolutely no stitch definition when working with you, I was still feeling like we had something great going on. I was still thrilled at your touch on my skin. And I was looking forward to the future when I could drape you around my neck and enjoy that cloudy softness against more of my body. But when I woke up this morning covered in little balls that you left behind while we were working together yesterday … I have to say that I’m not looking forward to draping you over any shirts or dresses or jackets that I own anytime in the near future. The scarf isn’t finished yet and I haven’t given up on you but let’s just say that I’m keeping one foot out the door as far as this relationship goes.

Completely Unsure,

CrochetBlogger

Dear Bernat Haven in White,

Halfway through our work together on the scarf, I realized that it wasn’t going to work. I wish that I were one of those clear-minded women who could step back at a time like this and say that even though I’ve given it a good shot it’s time to cut my losses and move on. Unfortunately, I am not one of those women. Instead I am the ultimate optimist in doomed relationships. I am convinced that I can make things work if only I can get past this one little bump in the road. I am convinced that my efforts will be worth it. And that’s how I end up with these problems and regrets. I really should have pulled back and ended things halfway through the scarf when I realized that not only was it really too wide to be a good scarf but that you were going to run out of energy (yardage) and come up far too short to work as a scarf. But no, I stubbornly just kept on going somehow trying to convince myself that this was going to work after all. And when you actually did reach the end of your rope and completely abandon me, did I have the good sense to leave? No, of course not. I somehow deluded myself into thinking that what I had in my hands was not half of a too-fat scarf but instead a perfect cowl. And boy did you trick me, because once I sewed the ends together with that pretty shell stitch and slipped it over my head I really did wholeheartedly believe that everything was going to be fine in the end. It looked so pretty. You sure must have been laughing then because you knew what I didn’t know – that not only would I come home at the end of the day with white fuzz all over my clothing but also that I would spend the day choking and sneezing because you are not just itchy but also have an uncanny tendency to let loose little fibers that sneak up the nose and stick there. I hate you. In fact, this is the last that you’re going to hear from me. I am leaving now with only two stops to make – the first to drop you off at Goodwill and the second to see a therapist to find out why I spent so much time trying to make something work when it obviously just wasn’t right for me.

Broken Hearted but on the Way to Recovery,

CrochetBlogger

This is the first in a collection of stories about the ups and downs of being passionately, sinfully in love with crochet.